Bound by the urgency imposed by "time,"
For someone who needed to kill Feitan within ten months, where should he focus his efforts?
Morrow didn't have the luck of Gon and Killua, who first met Wing and later Biscuit...
If he posed this question to Biscuit, he would probably get an immediate answer.
But Morrow didn't have Biscuit; he could only rely on himself to find the solution.
He wondered: Was there any value in lingering and honing his skills in the matches below the 200th floor of Heavens Arena?
The answer was yes.
He wasn't short on money, so he didn't need to rush through to the 200th floor like Gon and Killua.
What he lacked most right now was combat experience and understanding at the martial arts level.
Compared to the floors above 200, where the focus had already shifted to Nen abilities, the matches below the 200th floor were more likely to pit him against skilled Martial Artists like the one he had just faced.
Originally,
Morrow had come to Heavens Arena for the Nen users.
But after witnessing a life-or-death martial arts duel, his perspective had shifted slightly.
Since his rebirth, everything he had done was aimed at one goal: "Feitan's death."
Therefore, in his path to becoming stronger, he had to account for Feitan's combat characteristics.
Thus, Morrow naturally concluded:
The key to successfully killing Feitan lay in how he handled Feitan's rapid attacks.
Regardless of accumulated combat experience, at the very least, he needed to be able to see Feitan's swift blade.
Relying on his own understanding, Morrow arrived at a rough answer through contemplation.
Without guidance from a renowned teacher like Biscuit, he couldn't be sure whether the choices he was making now were correct.
All he could do was align his actions with his convictions; once he had settled on a direction, he couldn't afford to hesitate.
And these arena matches at Heavens Arena…
Could help him shore up his weaknesses.
"Again."
Morrow's thoughts returned to the present as he turned to face the long-haired woman, who was clutching her hand and retreating.
At his words, her brows furrowed tightly.
"You…"
She wanted to ask something but thought better of it, closing her mouth and suppressing her shock and the pain in her palm before charging at Morrow again.
Still relying on her agile, well-practiced footwork, she swiftly moved into Morrow's blind spot.
"He's dodging, which means…"
As she struck, the long-haired woman noticed Morrow's barely-there evasive reaction, and her confidence steadied.
She abruptly altered her attack, her descending palm striking Morrow's shoulder instead.
Thud!
Another dull impact echoed across the arena.
Then...
Hiss!
The long-haired woman felt as though she had struck solid iron. Gritting her teeth, she sucked in a sharp breath and recoiled as if electrocuted, clutching her throbbing hand.
So hard…
How could it be this hard?
Even with Iron Body skill, it shouldn't be possible to reach this level, right?
Beads of cold sweat instantly formed on her forehead.
During her first strike, she had held back slightly, considering Morrow's youth.
But this time, recognizing his strength, she had gone all out.
Yet, precisely because she hadn't held back, the backlash was even worse.
Cradling her swollen, likely fractured hand, the long-haired woman felt a deep sense of gravity.
She fixed her gaze on Morrow, only to see… Lost in thought again??!
The long-haired woman's cheek twitched involuntarily.
—--
Meanwhile, Morrow was reflecting on their earlier exchange.
Though he hadn't anticipated her sudden change in technique, his aura had reacted faster than his body could move.
The only issue was that it had been too rushed, leaving him unable to properly control the intensity of his Nen.
As a result, his opponent had suffered excessive rebound damage.
This was the last thing Morrow wanted.
He could tell the long-haired woman before him was skilled in martial arts.
Setting aside physical strength, the footwork she'd used to swiftly circle behind him reminded him of Killua.
So Morrow wanted to use their limited three minutes to experience as much of her offensive techniques as possible, hoping to learn something from them.
But it seemed he had genuinely frightened her just now.
Morrow quickly snapped out of his thoughts and turned to the long-haired woman, who was now drenched in cold sweat. Eagerly, he said, "Come at me again. I'll be more careful this time, and I promise I won't fight back."
"..."
The long-haired woman fell silent, gritting her teeth hard.
One of her hands was likely fractured, which had already made her consider giving up.
But seeing Morrow's reaction filled her with unwillingness.
—--
Nearby.
Even the experienced referee couldn't help but look surprised at Morrow's behavior.
Let alone the competitors watching the match from the stands.
"She was the one who got hurt even though she landed the hit..."
"To space out and ponder in the middle of a match... How arrogant."
"Acting like this in a fight... hmph, he just hasn't met me yet."
Some of the spectators murmured among themselves.
Only one handsome man remained silent, his gaze fixed intently on Morrow in the ring.
—--
In the ring.
Morrow watched the long-haired woman expectantly. Clenching her jaw, she ultimately refused to lose the match like this.
"Ha!"
Abandoning her footwork, she adjusted her breathing and mustered every ounce of strength in her muscles before charging straight at Morrow.
Straight punch!
Planting her stance, she drove a direct punch toward Morrow's abdomen.
Morrow lowered his eyelids slightly, tracking the trajectory of her fist with his eyes.
Power, speed, angle.
Every element was seamlessly integrated into this punch, giving it a polished, refined feel.
This kind of force application and punch trajectory must have been honed through countless adjustments and training sessions.
But...
He could see it all clearly.
Footwork really is crucial...
If this punch had been supported by her footwork, someone like me with limited experience probably still wouldn't have been able to block it.
In that split second, Morrow felt as though his thoughts were moving differently than usual, allowing him to process so much in such a brief moment.
And then...
Morrow lowered his hand, positioning his palm directly in the path of the incoming fist.
He even consciously controlled the intensity of the aura swirling around his palm.
Thud!
The long-haired woman's fist slammed heavily into Morrow's palm, yet it felt as though all her strength had been poured into cotton, yielding no feedback whatsoever.
Morrow didn't budge an inch, and the long-haired woman froze in place like a statue.
"You..."
The sensation of resistance from his palm, gentle yet deep, like water, left her momentarily dazed.
She felt as though she had brushed against a realm beyond her comprehension.
Then, in a daze, she lifted her gaze to meet Morrow's. Fortunately, what he saw was no longer a pensive reaction, but the boy's radiant, spring-like smile.
"Thank you."
Morrow withdrew his hand and expressed his sincere gratitude.
I can learn so much in this place.
At this moment, Morrow was absolutely certain.
The long-haired woman opened her mouth, then ultimately let her arm drop in utter defeat.
"Referee... I concede."